


Smoke And Mirrors

by SpeckledCoffeeCups



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Drug Use, Drug recovery, Friends With Benefits, Herc and Madison are cousins, Implied Sexual Content, Implied non-consensual elements in ch 3, M/M, Side Jamilton, Smoking, Sorry Not Sorry, Trans John Laurens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9460730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpeckledCoffeeCups/pseuds/SpeckledCoffeeCups
Summary: Burr is the perfect boy. Quiet, respectful, yes m'am, no sir.Laurens is the bad ass punk who could care less about image as long as he was satisfied.They were somehow perfect and toxic for each other at the same time.





	1. I'm over It

John Laurens was a no good punk ass who was the rebel of the closed minded catholic community.  He was gay, trans, smoked, had premarital sex, and cussed.

All condemnable to hell according to his father and professors.

But Aaron Burr was the exact opposite. Orphaned genius who lived with his grandfather until he was 7 and then shipped around until he fell into John’s waiting hands. Soft, worn and ready for all the attention that John was willing to drop on him.

Like now when Aaron has his arms wrapped tightly around John’s slender waist as he drives the motorcycle through a worn part of town. The buildings are worn and glass is missing from select panes leaving metal skeletons behind.  Burr tightens his grip on John’s waist.

“Are you sure we’re safe out here?” He muses quietly.  Lauren’s frame shakes with laughter in front of him.

“Has anyone told you, you worry too much?” Laurens asks as he swings around a corner rougher than needed, tilting the bike dangerously close to the ground. Burr can feel the heat from the day radiate on his shin as Laurens woops and cheers pulling out of the turn.  He may be sensible but Lauren’s body warm and relaxed under his touch is enough to make his head spin. 

His arms tighten around John’s waist.

John smiles.

“So, you said you’ve never been out here? You’re sheltered dude,” Laurens comments slowing and kicking it to stall. Burr doesn’t respond.  He hasn’t but mainly because he hasn’t been in town long enough to explore.

Laurens doesn’t comment on his silence.

“I’d have to say tho, there’s an abandoned house around the corner.  Very cozy.  The family just picked up and went off without warning one day a few months ago.”

“Is this legal?” Burr questions slowly.

“This? Probably not but the cops don’t come down here.  Too dangerous.” He snorts and digs a cigarette from his pocket.  “Too dangerous my ass.  You want dangerous go to a white neighborhood, they’re kill ya without a thought.  Here though, as long as you aren’t acting a fool they don’t care.”

The thought never occurred to him.  He grew up in the west, _middle of a field_ , his grandfather use to say, _nothing will hurt you here._

Now it’s occurring to him how wrong his grandfather was.

“You want a light?” Laurens asks taking a long drag between his chapped lips. 

“I don’t –“

“Don’t give me that bull shit.  You’re 20 years old and you’ve never smoked before? With all that shit you went through.” He snorts and blows the smoke to the side, his mouth twisting as he does so.

Burr is quiet for a moment.  He never considered drugs or alcohol in response to a bad hand at life.  Maybe eat a tub of ice cream, or drink two large hot chocolates.  But drugs?

“I haven’t.”

“What do you do? Life’s shit you don’t have to treat your body like a fucking temple.  Most people won’t,” Burr lets him rant and light a second cigarette before he speaks.

“No one expects me to be content as I am.  That’s my payback.”

It’s silent for a moment before Laurens starts to cackle and laugh like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s heard recently.

And although it hurts that Laurens doesn’t believe him the way he laughs makes him smile just slightly. Crinkly eyes, and hunched over at the waist he looks stupid.  But also like a someone out of an aesthetic post on Instagram.  A dark leather jacket pulled over his shoulders hiding a white tee, and almost black jeans stick to his thighs. His glorious thighs. God the shape and curve of them is enough to make him go crazy…. If he was queer.

He’s not.

But damn those legs could turn him.

“Dude, that’s the worst kind of payback.  Living well, damn what are you a pacifist?”

“My father was.”

“And my dad beat my ass every day senior year. So I’m not.  Pacifism doesn’t do anything for ya.  Just makes you seem weak.” Laurens comments too lightly.

“Beat you? You mean-“

“Burr, listen up.  I’m not straight, and I’m not cis.  My dad is a southern conservative. It happened, and I’m over it.” He says and flicks ash to the ground before dropping the stick and crushing it under his heel.

“I’m sorry,” Burr says as Laurens starts towards the abandoned house.

“For what?” He snips and shoves the keys deeper into his pocket, fiddling with a key chain.

“For your dad.  He sounds like-“

“Don’t,” He says and shudders. “You didn’t do anything; I don’t want your pity.” His voice is harsh.  “Come on,” He says and leads the way to the abandoned house. The trek is short, only accented by Laurens cursing him one of the steps on the porch gives out on him.

“Are you okay?” Burr insists on helping him from the hole in the decaying wood, but Laurens continues to push him aside.

“I’m fine – shit ow – mother fucking piece of shit.” He grumbles pulling himself upright, annoyance slipping from his form.

“You don’t seem fine.  Sit,” Burr directs. Laurens glares but Burr narrows his eyes. “Sit.” His voice, although quiet is commanding. Laurens does as asked without any more verbal complaint; his body language is tense.  Burr’s slight fingers trace along Laurens shin, feeling a lump above his ankle.

“Shit! Watch it that hurts!” He yelps.  Burr pulls his hand back. 

“Sorry.  Can you walk, we should leave, it’s not safe.” He comments.  Laurens rolls his eyes frowning deeply.

“Yes I can walk I’m not a fucking child.” He grumbles and stands slowly, wincing as he rests his weight on his other foot.  “Let’s go.” He mumbles, and pulls his hair away from his face, and securing it with a tie. His cheekbones appear sharper in this light, verging on emaciated.

Burr doesn’t say anything. He wishes he did.

“Are you coming, or just going to stare at me.” He snaps hobbling back down the road.  Burr shakes himself out of the moment and nods.

“My apologies.” He fingers his phone in his pocket and jogs to catch up to John. It’s quiet.

And Burr has always liked the quiet.


	2. Withdraw

It was late when the two returned to campus.  Laurens hobbled off with only a wave and grunt to Burr. 

He doesn’t take it personal, the entire way home Laurens was complaining about it.  Burr moves slowly to his apartment musing over his plans for the rest of the night. _Read chapter 14, type another portion of his outline for debate, call up Jefferson for his half of their French project…_

 

Laurens is shaking, and it’s not from the cold. He’s low on motivation and energy, has two papers due in the next week, and he hasn’t had a hit in over 48 hours.

John Laurens is addicted to crack cocaine, and he can’t feel his toes.

It’s cold. No hot. Shit.

His fingers fumble for the shower handle, praying he doesn’t wake Alexander, who hasn’t slept in almost three days. The water sputters for a moment before dowsing Laurens in a heavy dose of freezing pellets.  His hand still shakes. His breathing increases until he’s hyperventilating and his vision is splattered with white and black pin pricks.   _No, breathe just get past it._   _You were fine 20 minutes ago!  Get your shit together John!_

He can’t feel his fingers, his chest hurts, no just breathe…

“Lex… Alex! Alexander!” He’s calling out desperately, pleading his roommate to notice him. It doesn’t take long; he’s never been a deep sleeper.  When Alex enters the bathroom, he’s a mess, hair falling from his bun, and shirt missing, no surprise.

“Shit.  Jack, look at me.” Alex slips in front of John and runs his hands along his jaw and cheeks. “Look at me, you see me right?” he presses his fingers into John’s neck just enough to gather his attention. “Where does it hurt?” he asks softly and John shakes and bites his lip hard.  God everywhere, everything, it just aches, worse than he had ever before.

“Everything,” His hands spasm and he chokes on tears. He didn’t want Alex to know he’d been using again, but look where they are now. He’s more than aware.

“Come on Jack stand up, you can do it, good, see you’ve got this,” He encourages in a low soft voice. Although he’s smiling John knows he’s not happy.  But he puts on a good show.

“Lex-”

“Shhh, come on let’s get that jacket off.  Can you get those jeans off?” he asks taking the fake leather and dropping it on his desk right outside the bathroom. When he steps back in john’s struggling to get his jeans off but they do come off as does the binder John forced himself into when Alex wasn’t looking. 

“Come on, under the water,” He urges already tugging his sweatpants off.  “You know it’ll help, come on Jack,” He urges when John’s arms curl around his middle tightly. Everything’s too much, his head hurts, the lights are too bright, the sound of the water hitting the shower liner is too much.

Everything is too much.

“Jacky come on, up and over,” Alex instructs picking him up and stepping under the spray before setting him down.

“‘s cold.”

“No, you’re just very warm.” Alex says and sets his feet on the ground.  He’s wobbly, like a baby deer. It takes a moment for him to stand independently but when he does, his arms wrap around Alex. 

“’M sorry,” he mumbles, pressing his face to Alex’s neck.

“It’s okay, here sit down,” he says and lowers them slowly. The both sit in soaked briefs, John shivering as the chilliness of the plastic tub surrounds him.

“Cold,”

“I bet you are Jack.  But you’ve got this,” he says and adjusts them so John’s leaning into him, back to chest.  He shakes and hunches over at the waist a strangled gasp falling from his lips.

“I can’t, Lex. I can’t,”

“Yes you can, I’ve got ya, I’m not letting you go,” Alex reassures running his fingers across his shoulder and waist before grabbing John’s hand.  He shakes his wet hair out of his face pushes John’s off his neck.  “I’m here querido, just breathe.” He pulls John back against him and holds him tightly as he breathes slowly.

Even now, after a year and a half, he’s surprised with how calm he can be as John’s shaking, crying and in tears.

“It hurts.” He mumbles, his words garbled and wet from the spray hitting him in the face.

“What hurts?”

“My head, my chest, I can’t breathe.” Alex runs a hand over his chest, barely applying pressure.

“You can.  Just once, you’ve got it.” He says and applies just enough pressure. His breathing slows, but not enough, it’s much too fast. 

“Too much,”

“Jacky, it’s okay.” Alex reassures and rubs the pads of his fingers into the fabric of his binder before pressing down again. He presses a kiss to the back on his neck as he speaks. “I’m not leaving.”

The night continues like this and it’s 3 am before either of them are able to get out of the tub. The water had been flipped off by that point, leaving them both shivering, soaked, and worn. Wrapped in blankets John finally falls into a fitful sleep, punctuated by whimpers and tears.

And although Alex is pissed that John used again, he’s more worried for the withdraw process.  John’s already hard to handle; rash, always ready to fight, coming home at the most impromptu times drunk or high.

But he’s Alex’s first friend and sometime only friend. And seeing this boy crying and shaking as he fights through the mental highs and lows of the withdraw, makes him want to find whoever thought it was a good idea to get this kid hooked on drugs and….

He doesn’t know what he’d do.  Sometimes he wants to fight them, other times he wants to drag them back and show them what John’s like as the drugs leave his system; force them to recognize this is what they’ve done to him, a child almost barely old enough to sign for a lease.

Sometimes he wants to kill them.

But he never voices any of this, because he knows John and knows he doesn’t want Alex getting involved, with good reason. The payment for some of this isn’t the most conventional.

John coming home high, but red knees and puffy lips isn’t unfamiliar.

And it’s only one more reason Alex wants to mutilate his dealer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reaction has been amazing thank you guys so much! I'm hoping since I'm posting shorter chapters (like way shorter compared to what I normally post) I can get more content to you in shorter times. No promises because I'm the worst at having a consistent update schedule.   
> I thrive on comments, so please let me know what you think! You can reach me here or @weehawken-dawngunsdrawn on tumblr


	3. Wolves

John’s knees ache, his jaw hurts and his groin is hot and sore. But he has his drugs and a set of needles. He ducks his head as he walks across campus.  He knows he should stop, knows that everything he is doing is only going to kill him. But he doesn’t care.

He wants something good, and being high makes him happy. He stumbles over an uneven part in the sidewalk. He cusses and swallows down a shout as his twisted ankle shouts out.  It’s been three days and his ankle is still sore.

Two blocks to the dorms.

He swallows down his uneasiness and limps back towards the dorms, ignoring someone shouting at him.  He looks like a girl. But that’s how André likes him, yoga pants, crop tops, makeup done.

And he knows better than to not show up as he likes.

He swallows down the anxiety and fingers the mace on his keys. The one thing his father was good at was sending him the damn thing.

Someone shouts again and he grips the mace tighter. Footsteps behind him and he turns the corner.

One block to the dorms.

Someone grabs him and he wretches himself from their grip, ready to fight.  It’s Burr.

“Burr?”

“Hey pretty thing, you wanna come home with me tonight?” The same voice calls walking towards them. Burr wraps an arm around his waist.

“Too late, they’re mine for the night.” Burr comments slowly.

“You? Please she needs a good man to take care of her tonight.” John’s fists clench in his jacket and Burr pinches his waist.

“And that would be me.  Goodnight sir.” He states definitively.  The man glares then stumbles off. John watches and when they’ve turned the corner he turns to Burr and steps back.

“Thank you but I’ll be on my way.”

“I’ll walk you back.”

“I’ll be fine,”

“You could’ve been raped John.  I’m walking with you.” Burr insists.  The set of his mouth is definite.  He’s going to be escorted back by Aaron Burr.

“I have mace.  I’ll be fine.”

“Johnathon.”

“That’s not my name.” He snaps.

“Let me walk you back.” Burr crosses his arms and gives John a once over. “You’re….”

“Yeah I am shut up,” He snaps and tugs his jacket closed and zips it up, his fingers shaking.

“No, your neck. It’s bruised. Are you okay?” He asks true concern lacing his words.

“I’m fine.”

“John,” He pushes. 

“I’m …. I’m tired. Can we just start back.” It’s a demand not a question.  Burr motions for him to lead the way.  Burr stays quiet, his eyes never leaving John’s face.  He only speaks when John starts crying.

“Here,” He hands him a pack of tissues.  John mumbles his thanks and quickly rubs his eyes, smearing the already bad makeup job. Mascara coats his cheeks and he rubs at it furiously till he has two black eyes. He chokes on a sob and leans on the wall trying to regain himself.  He needs to get back to the dorms, and now.

“John,” Burr says and stands in front of him, blocking his path and any hopes of getting out of here without an interrogation. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing! Why do you keep asking me that!”

“Because you’re crying, you’re wearing woman’s clothing and makeup.  You’re not the same as you were when we went downtown.”

“You’re going to tell on me.” He whimpers and presses his head into his hands.

“Johnathon-“

“That’s not my fucking name!” He shouts loudly. “I just ask for one thing!  To be fucking respected and y’all go and do exactly the opposite!” he shouts tears slipping down his cheek burning tracks through the sweat and grime. 

“John,”

“No! Don’t touch me!  Don’t fucking touch me,” his voice cracks, and he sounds so broken in this moment. He sucks down another breath and whimpers biting his lip hard.

“John,”

“Just… take me back.” He swallows tightly, and when Burr wraps his arms around his shoulders, he presses his dirty face to his jacket.  Burr’s silent for the time being, barely even breathing as he guides Laurens’ to the dorms.  It’s comfortable, not over bearing or intruding, just the right amount of comfort. His breathing is slower, but he’s not calm in the slightest, and when Burr knocks on Hamilton and his door, Laurens’ is shaking again, his pupils blown.

The door creaks open, “Well if it isn’t Aaron Burr, sir… Laurens. Jacky, where, what are you doing?” he asks and reaches for John who slumps in his arms and lets out a pitiful sob.

“I ran into him on the street. Thought I should walk him back...” he lets the sentence trail off and clears his throat before speaking again.  “If you could let me know if he’s okay?  I’m going to worry.” He states softly.  Hamilton nods and thanks him.

And then his door is shut and Burr is standing in the hallway listening for anything from the other side.  Nothing. 

He leaves with a glance back to the room, and dodges a group of girls giggling and talking in hushed tones. He worries his lip as he enters the stair well. He needs to tell someone, but telling someone could be exactly what John Laurens doesn’t need.

If it happens again he will tell someone, and he solidifies his decision in his mind.  Whatever is going on requires higher authority, and if he loses Laurens friendship, that is something he can deal with. 

Because Laurens will still be alive.  And he can’t lose another person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who have read! Please comment, I haven't had much feedback on this other than kudos, and I'm curious if you guys like it.   
> As always thank you and love being sent your way!


	4. Help

It’s been three hours and John finally can breathe without hyperventilating.  His hands shake and Alex holds him tightly, just the right amount of pressure being applied to his form. 

“Lex,”

“I’m here, I’m not leaving,” He says softly and kisses his temple again.  Alex has always been tactile; if you felt bad Alex would be there with a hug in moments. 

John wants people to prove it. Show him that you’ll be around for more than a fuck, a kiss… a hit. He wants people to show him.

“John, just like this,” He grabs his hand and places it on his chest.  “Breathe baby, I’ve got you,” He murmurs. 

 _Baby_.  God he can’t fall back in love with Alex, and Alex can’t be saying this shit.

“Don’t,” he swallows down the shame and fear. His shirt is torn and the yoga pants lay on the floor to the side.  Alex knows, he knows all too well what happened at André’s, what he asked of him, how he called him a her and made him dress like one.  He’s so familiar with it, and the after effects of these events tear his heart apart every time. 

“Don’t what,”

“Baby,” He wets his lips and breathes slowly, focusing on Alex’s heart behind his ear.  “I can’t let you,” He quips shortly.

“Alright,” He runs his hands over John’s shoulder and back as he relaxes, wiping the stray tears away with quick hands he doesn’t think Alex see’s. “Are you okay?” he runs his hands through John’s hair. 

“Yeah,”

“John,” he swallows down the fear of what could’ve happened, trying to separate what did and what won’t. “talk to me,” John’s silent for a moment before speaking.

“Does it get better?” He asks and leans into Alex’s body. He’s shaking, but more from the cold.  John hooks his foot around a blanket hanging off his bed and tugs it towards them.

“What? This? Yeah, but you’ve got to-“

“No,” he swallows.  He knows Alex’s cousin was less than welcoming when the orphaned Latino came into his home. “I mean this,” his hands motion over himself, halting only momentarily at the blooming black and purple bruise on his neck.

Alex frowns and runs the pad of his thumb over the baby skin. “No.  But you get past it.” He swallows down his own fear. “This won’t be forever. I promise at one point this will all stop and you will finally be happy,” He shivers as he says it.

“I don’t want to do this,”

“John,” Alex says warningly.  He’s not doing this, the drugs and the depre-

“Shut up.  I’m not going to do anything you know that,” he snaps angrily, but doesn’t move from Alex’s side.  Instead he burrows deeper into the embrace and squeezes his eyes shut against anything and everything.

Alex runs slow hands over John’s shoulders and back, occasionally dipping his hand into John’s hair.  He’s surprisingly quiet, which is hard for him, but John appreciates it.

After a moment John speaks, quiet enough Alex didn’t hear him.

“What?”

“Help,” He repeats, sounding too broken for his age.

“Of course with what?” He asks massaging his bicep on every pass.

“The drugs.  One last hit, then I’m done,” He’s heard this before, John begging him for help, and a week later high and fucked out, sprawled on the bed starfish style.

“John,” he starts and John hits him.  Not hard but enough to grab his attention, a fist to his shoulder.

“Shut up!  I don’t want to do this Alex!  Please help me, fight with me, lock me in the fucking bathroom with nothing but a pack of cigarettes I don’t care!” He shouts and starts to cry again.  “I want out of this hell! Please, I’ll let you have me, Alex just help me!” He shakes and shifts his position so he can face Alex, and in the process cups his face kissing him. 

Alex pushes him back.

“John,”

“No!  I want this, please just,” He kisses him again, more teeth than lips, desperately trying to gather some reaction from Alex.

“Jack!” He pushes him back again with a firm grip.  “Do you not understand, I can’t do this right now-“

“Is it because of me? I’m sorry, I don’t want to you know that!” He sobs and grabs Alex’s hand holding it tightly. 

“If you don’t want to do it then don’t.  Don’t go back to him, don’t let him touch you, or make you dress in any such way you don’t want to.” Alex insists reaching for John.  “It’s nothing about you, it’s because I care about you too much Jacky,” He says pulling him close and tucking his fingers into his hair.  John sobs into Alex’s chest loud wailing sounds that only weaken his resolve.  He can’t, no matter how much he wants to, take John to bed right now.  He’s vulnerable, shaking, about to get high – he’s his best friend and he loves him more than he ever should.

“Lex,”

“Yeah bab- Jacky?”

“Please?” he asks softly running his fingers across Alex’s thigh, moving threateningly close to his crotch. 

“Jack,”

“Please?” he sounds so wrecked, so willing.  Alex closes his eyes and breathes slowly.

“You promise me you want this and it isn’t you being emotional?”

“I swear.” John’s breathing hitches with a sob. “I swear, I promise I’ll be good just-“

“No, John I can’t do it if you say shit like that.  I… love you for you.  Quirky, marine bio loving you, who always sends me out to get taco bell after you come down from a high.” He says running a thumb across his cheek. 

“Two quesoritos, a loaded potato griller and four cheese roll ups.” He repeats softly.

“Sometimes I wonder if you smoke marijuana more than you let on,” he teases and John shrugs, giving them the illusion of normality.

“Please.  Just,”

“I know baby,” John shivers and leans into Alex, lips parted expectantly.

“Lexi,”

“Shh,” Alex presses a soft kiss to his mouth, savoring this.  It’s been so long. “I’ve got you Jack, it’s okay,” He runs his hands around his back, dipping under the torn edges of his shirt to rub the skin. “Just relax,”

John nods, pressing his face to Alex’s shoulder wiping away the last of his tears.  Alex picks him up and holds him steadily before dropping him softly onto his bed, pushing the pajamas aside.  John’s thankful because Alex’s bed is littered with books, as normal, along with his drugs and needles. 

Fingers brush his cheek and turn his head to look at Alex.  “Look at me, not that.” John nods and wets his chapped, swollen lips.

He swallows and slots himself between John’s legs, and leans to kiss him.

And John, for once, is at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the sweet comments! I love each and everyone of you that read this.   
> As normal validation is my fuel, and as a college student it runs low 24/7. Help.   
> Thank you guys so much, I love you!   
> Follow me on tumblr @Weehawken-dawngunsdrawn


	5. Truth

 It’s done. 

John Laurens is going to get sober, and if he doesn’t, then he’s done.  He won’t fight anymore, he’ll let the damn drugs get to him, and fuck him up, and use him, just like André does. 

Now if he could just get his hands to stop shaking.

He clenches them tightly under the desk, willing himself to stop.  He agreed to go back to classes, after the worse of the shakes had subsided, but now, seeing how much he’s missed, he’s terrified.

The professor lets the class go and John’s up and ready to run from the room, but the professor catches him. 

“Mr. Laurens,” Dr. Franklin calls and he dips his chin into his chest. He slowly makes his way back to the professor, shoving his hands into his pocket. He needs to meet Alex and Hercules for lunch, and this is going to make him late. 

“Yes professor?” He asks, his voice soft and raspy.  He’s cried every day since his last hit. 

“Are you feeling okay? I know the flu is going around the dorms again, but you were out of class for a week.”

Shit. 

“Yeah, my roommate was sick Monday-“ not a lie “- and by Friday he’d given it to me.” A complete lie.  He was throwing up but not from the flu. 

“Well I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’ll email you power points when I get back to my office, but if you have any questions I’ll be on campus till five pm.” He says collecting his bag and jacket. 

“Thank you sir,” John starts towards the door slowly backing up. 

“Oh and John,”

“Yes sir?”

“Keep your head up,” He says with a small smile.  He ducks his head, and nods.

“Yes sir,” he runs out before Dr. Franklin can stop him again.

\---

“What do you mean you fucked him!” Thomas snaps pulling the small latino after him. 

“Thomas, listen! You don’t understand, you never see him like that.” Alex defends and wretches his arm from Thomas’s grasp.

“You cheated.”

“And you would’ve done the same thing for Madison if he was begging you.” Alex shoots back.  Thomas narrows his eyes at Alex and but doesn’t argue. 

“I would’ve called you at least.”

“And ruin the moment? You’re a hopeless romantic Thomas.” He points and swings his bag around to dig out gum.  “Hear me out.  André screwed him up, I don’t know what goes on when they meet but I know it’s not good.  He can barely form a coherent sentence after he gets back, he looks fucked out, bruises everywhere. He was hurting and needed someone to help.” Alex holds out a stick of spearmint as a peace offering.

Thomas takes it, and rips the wrapping off and glares at Alex. “I’m not happy, but it doesn’t mean I don’t understand.” He comments and takes the gum into his mouth while pulling his hair back off his face.

“Thank you,” Alex says and places a hand on Thomas’s hip squeezing lightly before pulling away.  They’re not embarrassed of their relationship, but people talk. The last thing either of them need is rumors swirling about the French ambassador’s son being gay with the lowlife immigrant, because no one understands bisexuality and the validity of it.

They’re about to walk back towards the communal lobby to wait for Madison and Hercules, Thomas going off with Madison to finish a project, and Hercules meeting them for lunch. 

Instead they find Aaron Burr leaning on the wall typing furiously into his phone with more vigor than either of them thought possible. 

“Burr, sir? Are you okay?” Alex questions, the stupid joke from first semester refusing to die.

“What? Oh yes,” He mumbles returning his focus to his phone.  “Answer you idiot,” He grumbles and shoves his phone in his pocket.

“That doesn’t sound okay,” Thomas comments, his eyebrow shooting up. “What’s up,”

“Nothing, Laurens won’t text me back, and he left his charger in our ethics class.” He says and rubs his face and head anxiously. “Where the hell is he? I haven’t seen him since… It doesn’t matter,” He sighs looking up when the door opens and in runs John. “Laurens,”

“Lex,” John grabs his arm and clenches hard.  “I’ve missed so much, shit, what the hell am I doing, this won’t work. I’m gonna fail out, loose the scholarships, god I’m fucked.  Why didn’t you make me go back to class! I missed so much!” Thomas and Burr watch shocked and curiously while Alex pulls John’s jacket up on his shoulder, and straightens him out.

“Jack, you’ve got to calm down.  You’ve got this if you need help don’t be afraid to ask.” He says and runs his hands over his frame, keeping his eyes off the yellow and green bruises circling his throat.

“I need help-“

“John.” Burr speaks up and John physically shudders before speaking.

“Aaron,”

“You left your charger in Ethics.” He says and holds it out like a peace offering. John grabs it slowly, his hands shaking.  Alex risks a glance to Thomas, hoping he understands.  He just nods, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Thank you,” John shoves it haphazardly into his bag.  “I… Need to go.  Tell Herc to meet me at the dorm,” He ducks his head tears threatening to spill.

“John-“ he sighs as John walks off shoving headphones into his ears, head down.  “Ay dios, that idiot.  I just,”

“He deserves better than he’s gotten.  Was he always like that?” Burr asks watching John’s retreating form. 

“He was normal, but then his dad cut off all contact, and he just slipped,” the story wasn’t unfamiliar, the conservative Southern Representative cutting off all contact with their gay trans son.  It didn’t take long for John to take the rest of his inheritance, push it under his mattress, and slowly spend it. 

He’s down to ten thousand.  He started with one hundred seventy-five thousand. 

“He’s kind hearted,” Thomas comments offhandedly.  The door John disappeared through opens and Madison and Hercules enter, a disgruntled but present John Laurens between them and being pulled back. 

“You aren’t escaping us Johnny boy,” Herc woops tugging his hair teasingly.  Madison rolls his eyes but a small smile plays on his lips.

“Now Hercules.”

“Yeah, come on let me go,” John comments wriggling in his grip.

“No way.  I haven’t seen you in two weeks.  You are _not_ dropping out on this.” He says and pulls his student meal card out and holds it temptingly in front of him.  “I have 20 points on my card that are calling your name.  And the campus store just more of those gummy bears you like,” He singsongs and Madison rolls his eyes. 

“Your mom’s going to be pissed if she finds out you keep spending money.” Madison comments yawning.

“That’s why you aren’t going to tell her,” He says and re-pockets his card. Madison rolls his eyes but doesn’t object. 

“Go on, you dragged the poor guy here, go feed him.” He says and sighs looking at Thomas.  “Honestly I don’t know why he hasn’t been disowned yet. Do you have the slides?” He asks coughing into his elbow, Hercules rolling his eyes, but smiling.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

And they separate, but only for a moment.

“Aaron,” John calls and looks to him, expectantly.  Alex is surprised but he doesn’t comment.

“Yes?”

“Are you coming? You can join us,” He says softly and burrows his hands into his pocket. 

“Thank you, I’ll be along in a minute.” He says and watches them walk off, before turning to the bathroom.  John Lauren’s is going to be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again! Please comment, let me know what you think! I'll be updating again at some point in the future hopefully   
> follow me on tumblr @weehawken-dawngunsdrawn


	6. Friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever, I've been trying to focus on school, and I've just been incredibly busy. I'll try and get another chapter done soon, but absolutely no promises.   
> Thank you for sticking around and reading I honestly appreciate ever last one of you!

One month into the school year, and Burr is already low on sleep. Three exams, two projects and one debate later, Burr is spending his night in the library, splitting a table with none other than Hamilton. They're splitting the table, coffee cups, notes, scraps of paper and pens covering the surface in a disorganized pattern. 

This is normal, the habits of last semester falling back into place. Every half hour, someone fills the coffee, Tuesday's, Thursday’s and Saturday's Burr brings the snacks, and the other days, Alex does. It's normal, and expected. What's not expected is John Laurens who is running into the library, cheeks flushed and eyes red. He's breathing hard, his eyes frantically searching for Alexander.  Seeing him, and in turn Burr, he quickly moves to them, obviously shaken about something. 

“’lexander!” He calls chopping the first letter in his rush.

“John-“

“My frats going to kick me out,” he cuts him off and slides into the seat next to Burr. Omega Xi has a strict no criminal activity rule, and has banned members if they have pending tickets. How John had managed to get by till now surprises Alex, but he never wanted this.  These boys are his family.

“What did your big say?” Burr asks saving his document and leaning back.

“Francis is going to vouch for me, but I don’t know, Lex I can’t lose them, when I ended in the Hospital last year, they all showed up and raised money, Alex I can’t,”

The hospital or when John was high, fell down the stairs, didn’t go to the hospital for three days and almost had to have surgery to repair a fractured ankle.

“Laurens your big will defend you,”

“What do you know! Daddy’s money and Alex over here on scholarship. My dad threatens to take away what little cash I have, I’m addicted to narcotics, and my frat hates me.” He lays his head on his arms his shoulders quivering with unshed tears.  He’s worn.  It’s been a week since his last hit, and although the worst of the shakes has subsided, his anxiety is through the roof, keeping him on his toes constantly, to the point he collapses in the dorms most nights, and only remembers basic safety, such as removing binders, after being prompted by Alex.

“Jack,” Alex sighs and squeezes his shoulder before rubbing his neck softly with his thumb.  “Come on let’s go back to the dorms.” He says and removes his hand from John’s neck. 

“No! Please Lex you’re missing so much because of me, stay, I’ll be fine.” He pleads, but he’s wrecked.

“John, it’s fine-“

“I’m done for the night.” Burr states closing his impeccably neat notes and shutting his laptop.

“Burr, please don’t feel like you need to,” John cuts in and tugs on a loose string of his sweater, sounding defeated.  He doesn’t need a baby sitter.

“It’s fine. I need a brain break,” He comments shouldering his bag.  “And its Aaron.” He adds slowly.  Alex glances between the two before his phone buzzes with a message.

“You’ll be okay?” Alex asks typing away furiously, focused on his phone.

“Yeah,” He sighs and stands griping his bag tightly.  Burr nods and takes the lead.  “You know where my room is if you need us,” He says and motions for John to go first.  He follows as him as they exit the library and John shivers at the cool breeze. It’s almost nine pm and almost the time John falls into bed.

“You okay?” Burr asks quietly as the trudge across campus, fighting the cold. 

“Yeah,”

“John,” He interrupts.  “Please be honest.  Life is hard, but it’s easier with friends.” John snorts and rubs his nose against his sleeve.

“Yeah, and the moon is round.” He comments and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Life sucks.  You either fuck it or it fucks you,”

“Now John,”

“Don’t ‘now John’ me.  I’m shit, I’m a mess, and I don’t know how to do anything productive.” He comments keeping his head down.  They’re silent, faces turned away from the biting wind, until they reach the dorms.  Burr holds the door open for him, and speaks quietly.

“You’re more than you give yourself credit for.” He runs a hand over his closely trimmed hair.  _ Professional _ . His grandfather would say.   _ You’re bound to get a good job if you can manage your appearance.  _

“I’m not,” John mumbles keeping his head down.  “You live in the same building as Herc?” He asks quickly, trying to change the topic. 

“Yeah, he’s down the hall from me.  Lives with Madison.” Burr comments as he ascends the stairs to the second floor. “He’s nice.  Brought tea down after I got the flu last semester.” He’s making small talk and he hates it but John is relaxing just a bit, and it’s worth it. Unlocking his door, there’s a mess on the other bed, a familiar magenta scarf hanging off a post. 

“You live with Jefferson?” John asks sounding disgusted.  He runs a hand through his frizzy curls and tugs the band out.

“Yeah, we were roommates after Madison choose Hercules and it’s been nice.  He’s quiet enough, and we have similar enough sleeping and study habits.” He states dropping his bag on the desk chair and pulling out his Macbook and notebooks, putting everything in its place. It’s meticulous, almost sickening so to John, who keeps everything in his bag and almost never unpacks like this.

He’s also failing 2 class already, so he could stand to take some pointers.

“Are you okay?” Burr asks standing straight and pushing his jacket off and hanging it off the edge of his bed. 

“I’m fine.”

“You’re an awful liar John.” He comments easily and grabs the remote and turns the TV on, and pulls up Netflix. “What shows do you watch? I have Bob’s Burgers queued up, along with How to Get away With Murder, Grey’s Anatomy-“

“You’ve got to stop.” John crosses his arms and avoids looking Burr in the eyes. If he does he’ll melt and sit next to him and forget he’s stuck in this hell where he’s constantly thinking of his next hit.

“What?”

“This.  You helped me once.  That’s it-“ He starts clenching his hands into fists in his sweater arms, pressing his arms tight to his torso. 

“John-“

“No! Burr you’re very kind, and I’m not.  I hurt people, and do drugs, and am a little slut for André.  There’s nothing of me you should want to have any part of.” He states defiantly, his breathing picking up. He watches Burr who shakes his head.

“I said you can call me Aaron.  And how long have you had that binder on?  10 hours?” He asks completely avoiding John’s comments, and pats the bed next to him. “I’d advise taking it off soon if you feel comfortable doing so.” He states slowly, unsure what boundaries they have, and trying to keep the mood light. 

“If I sit, will you stop babysitting me.” John bites. Burr sighs.

“John, you are more than free to leave,” he motions to the door but John doesn’t move.  “Now please sit, you need to relax.” He comments patting the space next to him.  With a sigh, John settles onto the lumpy mattress and crosses his arms.

Burr clicks over to How To Get Away With Murder and John snorts. “What?” Aaron voices and John rolls his eyes.

“If we are going to watch a wildly inaccurate show, it needs Patrick Dempsey.  Grey’s Anatomy.” He smirks and clicks over pressing play on season one. John relaxes just slightly on the bed and sits thigh to thigh with Burr as one episode becomes two and then four.

Twelve thirty am and John sleeps through the night for the first time in a week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @weehawken-dawngunsdrawn


	7. Reality Check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who have stuck with me through the hiatus! I'm sorry but life got real, and really busy. I had to prioritize but I'm back!

John checks his phone for the fourth time in three minutes and swallows anxiously. Francis told him to be at the main entrance to the house at 3:15. It's now 3:30 and his anxiety is leading him to start pacing. Where is he! He grumbles and debates ducking out and going for a ride. He hates this, God why does everything hate him, why can’t he just have a normal life-

“John!” He looks up and there's Francis running towards him, frustrated and disgruntled. His hair is pushed back into a bun, and he looks worn. 

“Francis, what did they say, please tell me it's gonna be okay,” he says running his hands through his hair anxiously. 

“John… come on let's talk,” he says slowly, placing a guiding hand on his back. He directs John away from the front of the house and keeps quiet, tension building in the air.  

“Francis-”

“John.” He cuts him off. “You need to listen very closely.” He wets his lips and stops. They're near the end of the road, right across from where John parked his bike. “You’re on probation. If you can get clean, you're welcome to become a full brother again. But if you screw up…. we’re both out.” He says slowly. John pales confused. 

“You offered up your membership for me?” He asks and Francis nods not looking him in the eye. 

“You're a good guy John. I believe you want to get clean, and I know if you put your mind to it you’re going to be okay,” he says and swallows down past a lump in his throat. 

“You’re shitting me,” He mumbles and Francis shrugs. 

“I have faith in you.  MOst of the brothers do too.  Just remember that.” He says and glances aside.  “And uh… until you’re back from probation they don’t want you to wear our letters or come to meetings.  I’m.-”

“You’re what! You say you want to help me but you’re cutting me off of my support-”

“You need to find more than just us.” He snaps and presses his lips together to calm himself.  “John you need to get your shit together.  We are doing this out of love.  You have such a passion for the brothers, but you need to have yourself in order to properly focus in school and with us.” He says firmly.  John glares before shoving him off.  

“Fuck you, you say you have my best interest at heart but all you’re doing is getting rid of me-”

“John-”

“No!  Francis the boys are all I have!  Alex is getting fed up with me, I will place money on it that the guys are getting rid of me because I’m too much to handle, and they sent you to do the dirty work!” He snaps and feels his chest tighten, not only from the binder he has on.  “I,” He sucks down a breath and shakes his head stepping away. “Fuck off,” He grumbles and fishes his keys out of his pocket before swinging his leg over the seat of his bike. 

“John!” But he’s gone.  He speeds down the road, throwing up gravel and dirt as he drives. His phone buzzes and chimes in his pocket until john shoves it in his bike bag at a stoplight. 

People whistle and shout at him, cat calling him from their truck thats lifted too high to be reasonable. He rides until he's in the outskirts of town, the reservoir the only thing for a mile. 

Kicking his bike off he slides off and grabs his cigarettes before he starts pacing, frustrated.

_ We want the best for you -  _ bull shit. They're tired of him, of all the help he needs just to function. First the brothers, then Alex will finally kick him out. He lights the cigarette, the flame shaking making it hard to catch. 

He's panicking. And in his panic he leaves his bike alone on the road, and his phone in his bag. 

He stumbles his way to an outcrop of rocks and sits down, his hands shaking as he struggles to keep his breathing even. He can’t believe it for a single moment.  They’re kicking him out.  

He sucks down a lungful of tobacco and holds it in his chest. Releasing he’s nudged from behind. He almost jumps into the lake, before he turns and checks who it is. 

Aaron Burr. 

“You okay?” Aaron asks evenly, tho concern shines in his face. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?” John asks and Aaron raises an eyebrow. 

“I walk this path occasionally.” He answers confused. “It’s a public walkway… are you smoking again? John.” The disapproving tone is enough to shame John. He ducks his head and flicks the ash off to the side. 

“I’m on probation with the frat.” He mumbles. Aaron is silent before sitting next to him. 

“I’m sorry…” He says it softly.  “Does it concern drugs?” he asks and John nods lower lip wobbling. 

“Everything I do concerns that.  I wake up, and I’m shaking because of drugs. I eat lunch and feel sick because of the drugs. I look like I’m dying because of the drugs.” He laughs and tugs on his hair before shoving it behind his ear. 

“You’re more than those drugs… Come on. Up.  I’m buying you food. Food that won’t make you sick-” Aaron says and tugs John to stand. 

“Aaron-” 

“Don’t.  You can’t live off protein bars. Up.” He says and tugs John again. He stands and drops the cigarette and stomps it out under his heel. 

“Thank you,” He mumbles, his head tucking to his chin. 

“It’s nothing. Come on,” He says and motions to the path back.. “Let’s go. You need a burger.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me @Jeffersoff on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> Burrens needs more love. Enough said  
> Follow me on Tumblr @weehawken-dawngunsdrawn


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